


The Places We make Our Own

by SomethingToShare



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Knife Mention, M/M, Murderous Intent Mention, Snakes, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic EVERYBODYY, Sympathetic Remus Sanders, The Kool-Aid Man~, almost car crash mention, ambiguous emotional manipulation mention, disturbing imagery, sexual innudendoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingToShare/pseuds/SomethingToShare
Summary: Deceit has been having a rough time recently. But hey, at least he keeps on being bothered by a strange Trash-can of a man (he'd probably take that as a compliment, too).





	The Places We make Our Own

It had been a long, long day.

Deceit let the air spill out of his lungs in a heavy sigh. Another day of being ignored. Another day of trying, _succeeding_, to slip into Thomas’ debates as one of the ‘good’ guys, of being loathed and _adored_ for who he was, what he embodied to them.

Another day of seeing those dark, brooding eyes fill to the brim with scorn. Like he was _everything_ bad, anything_ evil_.

Well, if that’s how they wanted to play it, then that’s just _fine_.

Rising from Thomas’ living room into his personal abode, Deceit half-heartedly tossed his hat across the bedroom. If there was anything he could do well, it was play games; if winning, keeping Thomas and his _quintessential _‘FamILY’ happy, meant bending their oh-so _important_ rules? Well, who was he to deny Thomas? He just wished that the boy didn’t make it so _easy_ to take care of himself for once.

Deceit ran a hand through his hair, pausing as he noticed the bright yellow gloves. Peeling away the material with two quick tugs, the side placed his coverings on the long, black table in front of him; a large glass box took up most of the flat surface, and it was filled with large branches, flush foliage and shallow pools of water. The whole scene basked in an amber haze, cast out from lights above. A single snake, scales tinged with sunset and midnight - much like those on Deceit’s hands, the slivers of colour patterning his skin now exposed - curled into herself, still and peaceful.

Deceit rubbed his palms together, feeling the heat of the room embrace him; his head drooped a little less, and his mind grew a touch more awake. No matter where he went, every other place in Thomas’ mind was uncomfortably cold. He _couldn’t_ have sworn it had even become chillier in the ‘Light’ Side’s Common Room recently. There always seemed to be constant little discomforts, in that place; a stare, the silence, a figure leaving the room silently, purple hoodie disappearing from his view. For such ‘good’ guys there were awfully _welcoming_, weren’t they?

To be fair, it’s not like he had ever mentioned his… temperate issues at any point.

Did Virgil even know?

_It doesn’t matter. I _will_ let it affect me, whether they realise what they’re doing or not._

Collapsing into the black and gold sofa, the gilt-eyed serpent tried to collect his thoughts through a haze of fuzzy static. Lower part of his face wrapped in his capelet, he glared at the opposite wall. What sort of plan could make Thomas **listen**?

He had tried trickery,

He had attempted debate,

He had even let the Fox off his leash to _play_ with the Hounds, and **today**? The poor snake had made a singular effort to suggest Thomas ignore his GPS and continue driving to the gas station, to which his Whole had almost crashed the car into the side of the road! He got shouted out by Virgil pretty quickly after that.

Perhaps… Deceit could have chosen a better time to pop in.

But what else could he do?

He dragged a single hand across his frowning face: The weight of defeat. Oh, this was just _perfect_.

As Deceit swung his feet off the sofa, there was a knock at the door. He _didn’t_ roll his eyes.

“Yes, come in.”

A low voice reached out from behind him, bopping his nose with a long finger, the nail splintered and razor sharp.

“Boo-p.” Deceit’s non-corporeal form jerked in surprise, and he crossed his arms.

“Hello to you too. That was _so_ funny, Remus.”

“I made the thing.” The green-clad Duke slinked out of the shadows and appeared in front of his companion, moustache twitching with his smile.

“The thing?” Deceit asked.

“Yeah, the thing.” Deceit pinched his brow.

“What THING, REMUS?” The question came out sharper than he intended. Deceit was tired.

He was tired of trying to figure out the silent words exchanged through looks, looking for the perfect way to phrase things so that no-one could twist his words, of filtering out the unnecessary backlash of a certain emo; he was worn out. So if Thomas’ selfish side happened to _actually _splurge and let his emotions out for **once**, and not bottle them up like a certain _naïve_ father figure, _shallow _Prince, _emotionless_ teacher, or- or Stormcloud runaway, could you blame him?

Remus blinked in surprise, smile falling slightly. As that light dimmed, something tight crawled its way from Deceit’s ribcage up into his throat.

Wow.

Thomas couldn’t be a selfish person if he **tried**_, _could he.

“I got to make something big in the Imagination today.” Remus spoke slowly, falling into the sofa and crossing his legs. “I thought you’d like to see my improv~.”

“So you _didn’t _do that thing you do where you make a clone of me tongue a burrito with your face inside?” Deceit _asked_ with blunt malice. They both knew that the question, at this point, was near meaningless.

“Why don’t you come see?” The man twirled his moustache, then _literally _twirled it, which, with the skin still attached, made for a disturbing display.

Deceit sighed.

“A few minutes?” He answered wearily.

“That’s all I need.” The Duke’s smile was wide and deep, a large crack splitting his face into cheerful hunger.

With a snap of his fingers, a basement door appeared, swinging open downwards into a deep abyss. Remus descended and, reluctantly, Deceit followed.

The door closed behind them with a squeak and _click_.

* * *

Today had been just as _terrific_ as the last. Rising into his room with a groan, Deceit flopped onto his floor in a menacing heap of dark fabric and exhaustion. With his face smushed against the purple carpet, he could see a pair of black, pointed shoes.

“Remush, pleashe. I’m tired.” There was a pause.

Shuffling about for a moment, the feet went out of focus and Deceit heard the door open and close, carrying a chill breeze with it. He shivered, pulling the cloak on his shoulders closer, eyes squeezed shut.

What was Remus planning?

It wasn’t like Deceit was scared, but he was certainly… _excited_ about whatever grim conjurings he would have to endure before he got to sleep, especially after last night.

In an ideal world, Deceit thought, the tall and foul-smelling _gentleman_ would leave him alone to figure out what his next step was. To making Thomas happy, he meant. That was his purpose, right? He sighed, shifting on the increasingly _snug _floor, the concept of standing long gone from his addled mind. No rest for the _decent_, no matter how much he might need it.

Another bout of cool air drifted inward. A patter of footsteps, and Deceit braced himself for the worst. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his head being lifted off the ground by a strong hand, then carefully lowered just as quickly onto…

Something soft, plush. As he was released, he felt something warm brush against one of his gloved hands before it suddenly jerked back. Baffled, Deceit craned his neck and opened his eyes to be met with a set of bruises, coupled with the green sheen of Remus’ eyes. The strange man was sitting cross-legged a short distance away, holding one of his hand with the other, looking startled. Across Remus’ shoulders clung a nervously twitching arm. Not one of his own, mind you. A spare, draped like a particularly disturbing _feather_ boa.

Deceit twisted so that his stomach was to the ground, looking down. It was a pillow. The serpent stroked it with both hands absentmindedly, and the material gave beneath his touch, filling back to its natural, ample shape as he let go. He quirked one brow at the other side. Remus shrugged.

“I can get more.” He spoke the words plainly, avoiding the question that hung on Deceit’s lips, but it still seemed to answer… something.

“Hm.” Deceit looked down again; the pillow was mostly grey, with intricate green vines sewn across the edges: As he squinted, he noticed the whole thing had been imbued with slivers of a metallic, golden shine. “I think I _don’t_-“ He caught himself in the lie, correcting simply to “I have enough.” Remus smiled. Not a stretched, disturbing display, one where Deceit could count every single one of his excessively sharp, needle-like teeth. It was softly angled, with a few pointed fangs slipping through; on anybody else, he might have called it ‘beaming’, but on this oddity, it was almost shy. In a way.

“Fine by me, Double-Dee. I’ll just-“ The side reached out with a hand, hovering above Deceit’s head, before plucking his hat off, placing it next to him, “-be off then. I still have things to conjure, stories to create, blahblahblahblahblah~” Remus sang his nonsense out of tune, hopping onto his feet and walking towards the door. Holding onto the doorknob, he looked back. “You don’t have to be afraid of summoning me, you know.” He said. It was casual, but there was something grounded in Remus’ tone that edged on seriousness. Somehow, it made Deceit feel both uncomfortable and at ease.

“As if I’d summon _you_.” Deceit grumbled, sinking his face into the cosy gift wrapped in his arms.

“HA! You keep telling yourself that, Buttsnake.” And with that, the side was gone.

It wasn’t the swift breeze that bothered the snake this time. Or, well, it _was_, for _sure_.

There was something else in that moment, something vanishing through that doorway with only empty air to replace it, and as that… ‘something’ disappeared down the hall, the scaled man felt the light that had begun to fill him sink away. And if Deceit happened to hold his pillow a little closer as he got up and went to bed? That was between him and the heavy silence, held unbroken by one man, a room and a snake, wrapped contentedly around a thick branch in a glass cage.

* * *

Remus didn’t visit the next day.

Deceit sat in his room, hands neatly seated on top of one another on his lap, staring at the door. He always came. He shook his head, _I should be using this time to plan. _Most days he wasn’t afforded the chance: It was like that Creativity had _anything_ _better _to do with his time than annoy and distract him. Or, well, that’s what Deceit had always thought.

He didn’t move.

Had he forgotten? This **was **Remus, after all. Even though he’d been showing up for months, the creative side could change his tune on a dime: A grimy, filthy dime. He could probably forget about Deceit within the day, if he got distracted enough.

The silence was _wonderful_. Deceit pulled his lips into a shaky smile.

Yes, it just… gave him more time to plan than usual. This was fine. This was_ fine. _He was Thomas’ self-perseveration; it just makes sense that he _wouldn’t_ want anyone else around.

Liars shouldn’t cry.

* * *

_How can you even **lose** a game of Twister with yourself, Thomas?_ Deceit thought to himself in a huff. At least that video was unlikely to ever make it online; it would be so _relaxing _and _easy _to edit. Maybe next time, _some_ people would be able to stay on-script. So much paint, such little motor control.

Deceit decided to rise into the Others’ hallway instead of his room, for once. It was surprisingly _unpleasant_ nowadays, with fairy-lights hung up across two walls, stretching down a wide corridor which was carpeted with black diamonds, filled with blocks of colour that gradually faded into one another down the hall: Grey, Green, Yellow. Orange. Near the end of the sequence, Deceit noted, the hallway narrowed and hummed with thick shadows, a single amber light warping dangerously, glowing above a cracked door. _He’s still busy_, Deceit let himself relax, breath fleeing tentatively from his incorporeal form. _That’s good. For now._

He turned to look the other direction, back to the bright yellow door of his room, hugging himself against the uncomfortable chill settling into his skin. The ‘Other Side’ was even colder than it was in the ‘Light’ Side’s domain, with the exception of his room. Nevertheless, he trudged down the hallway and up to his neighbour; a dark green door, vines peering through the frame. It was, admittedly, an _annoyance_ to see; the last time the dishonest side was out, the room had been flickering in and out of existence, red and green flashing across the starch-coloured walls. Whatever had been going on, it seemed to be over.

Slowly, Deceit raised a hand. His weakly-curled fist hovered, suspended before the entrance of the Creative side’s bedroom.

Any moment now, he could knock. He could _totally _do this, it wasn’t _weird_ or anything. They were associates, weren’t they? At least? So he should just…

Just…

He lowered his fist, balling it up in the cloth of his trousers instead in a quiet moment of frustration and relief.

It had only been a day. A _day_. Who knew that it would take such a short time to realise that he only ever had one other person to talk to?

That’s all it was: Remus was the only one _stupid _enough to talk to him. It’s not like they _enjoyed _being around each other.

Besides, he didn’t want to bother Remus. If that _oaf_ really wanted Deceit around, he would have shown up, like he always does. But he didn’t.

He wasn’t wanted.

So, Deceit did what snakes do _best_: Slither back to his den to stay warm and keep to himself. Survive. Preserve, whatever.

Turning his back on the dark-green door, the yellow side briskly walked over to his door and safety. Before he could pull open his escape route to seclusion, it opened for him. Across the entrance, Remus returned his stare, eyebrows raised. Creativity paused, the door to Deceit’s room now halfway open.

“Dee? So you_ are_ here!” He burst into a grin. “What- Where- _Why _are you outside your room?”

Deceit blinked.

“Uh…”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you just never really go anywhere around here anymore, other than. Here.” The side continued, awkwardly jabbing a thumb behind himself, smile faltering. “Are you crying?”

“Wh-“ He raised a gloved hand to his cheek and it came back damp, glistening in the soft yellow lights of the walls around them. “Am I?” He murmured, before snapping his hand shut, holding it by his side. “_I’m not_.” Deceit corrected himself quickly. Remus watched him for a little longer than usual, and Deceit glanced back, trying to ignore the rising heat on one side of his face.

Smiling tightly, almost an apology, The Duke snapped his fingers and the entrance to his side of the Imagination appeared; this time, the door appeared on the ceiling in the hall behind them, a rope ladder trailing downwards.

“Well, anyways. Sorry I didn’t show up yesterday. I was working on something.”

“No need to be sorry.” Trying to keep his cool, Deceit stared at the attic-like entrance. “Remus, I’m serious, I can’t take watching any more vore. Please.”

“It was NOT vore, it was art. Also, you don’t need to worry, this is a… different sort of project for me. I’d love to hear your take on it.” He exited the serpent’s room, bringing a warm gust with him (which Deceit did _not _lean into yearningly) as the door softly closed behind them. Bowing low and extending a hand, Remus posed the question. “So… your Anaconda _do_?” He winked.

Deceit rolled his eyes. “My Anaconda _don’t_.” He groaned, taking the hand extended to him. Remus giggled like a chippering coyote, and it made Deceit feel _uncomfortable. Certainly not _at ease.

“Comeoncomeoncomeooooon!” Creativity began to pull the scaled side towards the ladder, the _smooth _façade starting to break. “Let’s goooooo.” He whined.

“Fine, fine. See? I’m on the ladder, you can stop.”

Remus stared back at him as he let go of the other’s arm, eyes sparkling. He nodded, and Deceit prepared himself to see the _worst _of what Thomas’ mind had to offer as he climbed through the dark hole in the ceiling.

* * *

It was night, and it was raining. The heavens overhead had torn themselves apart into a clotted mass of dark, rumbling clouds, scattering drops of rain into an endless ocean of sloping green hills that careened off the endless abandon of darkness. In the distance, alone in the shower, lay a dilapidated cottage.

Odd. Remus was never one for quaint imaginings.

Perhaps they had been accidentally brought into Roman’s part of the Imagination?

“Remus, I think we’re in the wrong place.” Deceit said. The Duke’s head popped through the entrance, twisting to look around at the waves of green hills spilled across the obscured horizon.

“Nah, this is it.” Pulling himself out, the side cupped a hand over his eyes, squinting at the sky. “It was supposed to be clear, though. Still figuring out the kinks, I guess.”

“It’s… warm.” Deceit suddenly noticed that it was the same temperature as his room, despite the rain pouring down around them.

“Yes.” Remus closed the entrance behind them before any more rain spilled into the hall below, the small door snapping out of existence.

_That’s it? ‘Yes’? And he didn’t even make a joke about using the word ‘kinks’-_

“Hey, let’s hope it doesn’t get _too_ kinky, eh?” Remus nudged him with an elbow as they stood up. “Wouldn’t want the Kool-Aid Man to visit us tonight, or would we~?”

_Nevermind. He’s fine._

“Are we headed somewhere?” Deceit ignored The Duke’s last comment, wiping the already-sopping wet hair from his forehead. The wind was angled just _right_ to flick the rain underneath his hat, and his clothes had already started to weigh him down as they began to soak through.

“The cottage.” He pointed to the small building, running a hand through his own clump of messy hair. In the darkness of the countryside, its grey patch almost seemed to glow, more like silver in moonlight than a greasy, damp mess of threads matted against his head. “Ready?”

“I guess.” Deceit said, with little enthusiasm. They started on their trek through the rain; Remus led the way, checking for any loose stones on the cobbled path he was conjuring in front of them, grey slabs fading into existence before lowering themselves into the path being forged ahead. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, concentrating. “Do you think you could conjure an umbrella while you’re at it? It’s not like _anyone_ here would _use it_ or something.” The words were sharp, but Deceit’s tone dampened their edge. He couldn’t really be bothered to yell at Remus when a) He had sought him out, and b) He was, despite the weather, very curious in what this creative change of direction meant for his fellow side. Creativity turned around, already holding a dark-emerald umbrella in his hands, a small, apologetic smile passed over along with the item. Remus quickly turned back around as Deceit opened it up, leaving the serpent to watch his back in a small state of confusion. “I’m sorry, that was- I shouldn’t have-“

“It’s fine.” Remus continued to focus on the path. The deceitful side opened his mouth, then closed it firmly, biting his lip.

The slick material unfurled and immediately cast away the rain, and Deceit let out a small sigh of relief. Ahead of him, he noticed that Remus had not conjured any protection for himself, too focused on building a path to notice the rain, which was beating down heavier than before. Walking faster, Deceit leaned his arm out to cover the taller side as well, though Remus didn’t seem to notice. His arm started to get sore, but that only made the scaled side determined, raising the umbrella higher.

Between the path ahead of them and the empty isolation of the hidden countryside, the silence the two shared was surprisingly comfortable.

Within a few minutes the cottage stood ahead of them, bleak but for the bright green vines curling the small abode tightly in their grasp. It had a thatched roof, with two small windows lying beneath, the inside of the house obscured by heavy curtains; the walls were visibly cracked, though the damage seemed purely superficial.

In short, it was… not the greatest place he’d seen, nor the most expected. Or, as Deceit would normally phrase it, the cottage was the _best _and he was _certainly _not baffled at why Remus made such a thing, or why he wanted Deceit to see it so badly.

“This is the place?” He tried not the let the vague disappointment sink too deep into his tone; Deceit was never one to mind Remus’ stereotypical gothic mansions, perhaps the odd volcanic lair. Impractical, sure, but stylish? _Dubiously._

“This is the place.” The creative side rubbed the back of his neck, knocking his fist gently on the cottage. “It’s not the most flashy, I know. I thought I’d try something new for a change.” He finished the thought meekly.

“I thought you would have preferred to build a castle or-“

“Roman builds castles.” He looked directly at Deceit, face devoid of emotion. “I don’t build castles.” He said quietly.

“Oh.” Remus turned away, staring up at the cottage in the rain. His tall collar clung to his shoulders, hair pointing downwards in slick points and dribbling rain in streams down his neck. “Not that there’s anything wrong with th-“ The Duke snapped around, making Deceit jump, fumbling to catch the umbrella as it nearly fell from his grasp.

“This place can fit SO much shit in here,” Remus loudly advertised, smacking the cottage with both hands, “you don’t need some silly _castle _or- or _dungeon _for somewhere to be super cool and cocaine.” Remus said.

“Do you mean ‘dope’?” Deceit asked.

“You’re gonna love it, promise.” He said, teeth displayed in a gaping wound of excitement.

“You wanna go inside?” Remus continued. “It’s cozy. And dry.” He watched with eager eyes as Deceit sighed, shifting the umbrella to his other hand.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remus threw the front door wide open, chips of yellow paint flaking away with the gesture. “After you, my serpentine seraphim.” He dipped low, one hand delicately gracing his chest, and gave the deceitful side a wide grin and cheeky wink.

_He’s just teasing you, don’t overthink it._

_SERAPHIM?! WHERE DID HE LEARN **THAT** FROM?_

“Why thank you, Remus, Dear. How _considerate_.” Deceit played along despite his confusion, words flowing smoothly from his lips as the heat of the human side of his face threatened to burn off its own skin. Remus smirked, stepping aside to let his companion pass. Twirling the umbrella and closing it, Deceit cautiously took his first tentative steps into the other side’s most recent creation.

* * *

It was certainly larger on the inside than it was on the outside, though that wasn’t exactly a new development for Remus’ creations; recently, the creative side had found it was much more exciting to focus on the horrifying details of his ideas than the packaging. Fortunately for Deceit, this time it was nothing like the porta-potty that led to a… well, rather _pleasant _situation in an iHOP restroom. What he found instead was, to Deceit, much more disturbing.

A cozy room, only slightly larger than its exterior, with a large plush sofa-bed and television. Pink-tinged walls were lined with painted golden flowers, seeming to bloom in the warm light of a few lamps dotted around the corners. Through one doorway ahead of him, a brightly lit kitchen caught his eye; next to it was a small unlit corridor, leading down to a haze of shadows and glimpsed doorframes.

Oh.

There was only one reason Deceit could think of that explained why Remus would ever make such a place: The answer clicked, seeping dread into his bones.

“Are you going to kill me?” He said, voice low. Remus stopped, hand still on the doorknob after closing the exit behind him.

“What?” The Duke sounded genuinely baffled. _He was an actor, of course he would._

“Or maybe ‘torture’ is more correct, since I’d only really die if Thomas shuffled off this mortal coil himself.” The snake casually waved a gloved hand, tired. “I mean, this is what it’s all about, isn’t it?” He laughed. “Being kind to me all this time, getting to know each other better, leading me to this lovely little place,” He swept his arm out, taking in the room, “so that you could live out some crazy horror scenario where you chase me around with a knife?” Deceit’s tone was cool, controlled. If he felt a _little_ frightened, well, that was for him alone to know.

Holding his arms out slightly, face scrunched, he finally exhaled. “If that’s what you’re going to do, then do it. Get it over with.” He would think about the consequences later. How their connection was, how **ironic**, a _lie_. His own tricks, used to hurt him again, like a knife stabbing itself, which didn’t sound too bad until one remembered that this was a metaphor and somewhat-metaphorical Deceit was much more figuratively soft than the all-too-figurative kni-

“No?” Deceit froze. He peeked open a yellow eye. Remus wasn’t holding any sharp objects, nor did he have ‘that’ certain glint in his eyes. If anything, he looked a little lost, perhaps even more so than usual, searching through the snake’s expression and words for some lead. “I appreciate you thinking this place is ‘lovely’, so let me just get that out there, but… No?” Letting go of the handle, Remus raised his hand, prepared to conjure something. “Unless you-?”

“NO! No, I don’t want that, thank you Remus.” The Duke lowered his hand, face tinged with concern.

“Uh, so anyway,” he continued slowly, “this is the first place I’ve made that’s going to be around for a while. I made sure that it could withstand being eroded by the Imagination, which was REALLY hard. Ugh, I had to think about the SAME THING for HOURS, and there wasn’t even any porn to watch!”

“You don’t watch porn.” Deceit noted.

“Yeah, well.” Remus crossed his arms. “Maybe I would. If I wasn’t busy being like goddamn Michelangelo, building cottages with my freaking _mind_ over here.” He finished defiantly.

There was a pause.

“So…” Deceit drawled out, “You’re not going to kill me?”

“Nah.”

“’Nah’, you’re going to not kill me, or ‘nah’, you’re going to?”

Remus stared at Deceit, confused, with the tiniest sliver of annoyance.

“I said nah.”

“I need clarification.”

“You’re not being shanked, what more do you need?” Remus gave up, exasperated.

“I need-”

Deceit looked over Remus’ face, finding nothing but tired confusion.

“… Nothing. Thank you, Remus.” Deceit answered with a long, deep sigh. At this point, he just wanted to get through whatever weird tour of this place Remus was going to give and go back to his room, where it was safe and-

Warm. It was warm here, even warmer than outside in the rain, or even his own room. Tentatively, he pulled off a glove and exposed skin and scales to the air. No wonder he had become so… _energised _in their conservation: The temperature was _awful, uncomfortable. _Perfect.

That final thought caught him off guard.

Honesty is a vice, in the wrong hands. The glove scrunched tightly in his hand, knuckle’s whitening. He couldn’t afford to forget.

“It’s okay.” The Duke relaxed, grinning that strange, soft smile as he bounced excitedly. “Do you want to have a look around?”

“Sure.” There is was again. Another _lie_. It had to be.

“Okie-dokie! So this is the main area,” Remus gestured excitedly, “which has the sofa, the television, a bootleg Playstation Four,” He leaned towards Deceit, voice lowered, hand covering one side of his mouth, “It’s as legit as you can get in the Imagination. Roman helped, since my first take was, uh, _bad_.” The final word came out as something between a hiss and a wince.

Roman and Remus’ brotherly bond was all sorts of confused, Deceit mused. They had been getting weirdly close recently. That was the one subject Remus wasn’t willing to share his thoughts on, it seemed.

“I think I might have put up too many shelves?” The creative side continued, not seeming to notice his companion’s quick dip into thoughtfulness. “I wanted to make the place homey for you and I thought ‘hey, the- our common room is pretty barren, it doesn’t really have many pretty or soft things’ so I made a bunch and then they were all over the floor and-“ He gulped for air, then continued to speak at break-neck speed, “Roman said ‘hey, walnut-brain,’” he mimicked in a bold, low voice, “’you can’t just leave those on the floor’ ‘cause he was installing the playthingie and I was like ‘Don’t tell me what to do I’m an adult and I have everything under control’ and I was wrong.” Creativity slumped for a moment, air heaving in and out of his lungs. Head popping back up, he grinned. “Anyway, that’s why shelves.”

As he had been rambling, Deceit noticed the many, many shelves that the side was describing: Every single wall in the room had been completely packed with shelves, bursting with clutterings of crooked plush animals, small framed pictures and strange, glowing shapes, pulsing slowly between red, green, yellow and soft shades of blue, turning dark with the faintest trails of violet before brightening again. Two childishly sewn teddy bears stood out from the rest, leaning precariously off the edge of a high shelf: One covered in poorly stitched green threads with several and chaotically positioned button eyes; another more neatly formed, traditional bear wearing a pale blue bow. Both flopped against each other in a casual embrace.

And books: So many books, placed delicately and neatly between the chaotic assortment of Remus’ creations. Walking over to the nearest shelf, Deceit trailed his bare finger down a small, blue spine, the words ‘_An Enquiry Considering Human Understanding_’ glinting gold. He was certain that he had seen Logan reading this exact book a few days ago.

Looking up, Deceit noticed how the displays were interspersed with a variety of fresh white flowers. Heavy heads, small clustered buds, long and thin petals; blooming like untouched snow against the captivating darkness of a frozen night, holding the Moon’s pale gaze in their glow. They filled the room with the soft scent of oranges and vanilla.

Deceit took a deep breath of the perfumed air, then paused.

This was his favourite scent.

Now that he thought about it-

“You said something before.”

“Shelves?”

“No, uh, before you started on that.” Deceit said awkwardly.

“The Plaything?”

“Playstation, and no.” He murmured. “After that?” He prodded shyly.

“Uh…” Remus let out a long, stretched noise of consideration and concentration before turning his head to Deceit, apologetic.

“Did you… say something about making this place for me?” The deceitful side accidentally let something soft slip into his tone. He wasn’t quite sure where such tenderness came from, or what it was. After all, he wasn’t exactly a _hopeful_ person.

The Duke looked at him with unblinking eyes.

“Oh, well yeah. This place was made for you.” The side said matter-of-factly. “Did you want to see the kitchen next, or-?”

“W-W-uh-Wait, wait.” Deceit held up his hands, gently alarmed. “For me? Me. This… Made. For **me**?” He asked.

“Only if you want,” Remus pulls his hands up, correcting himself, “I’m not forcing you to stay here, or become a sex slave, or murder you or anything, and WOW saying that out loud sounds not great,” He fiddles with his moustache, not meeting Deceit’s eyes, “but my point is. Uh.” He scratches his chin, “_Murder _dungeon.” He mumbles to himself, lost in thought.

“Your point is…?” Deceit couldn’t help himself: He was just too curious. The Duke looked back up, snapping into focus.

“Right. You looked like you needed somewhere else to go, outside your room? You’ve been holed up for _weeks_! So,” He exhaled, “it’s here if you want it. I can set up a door to here in your room too, if you’d rather come here alone. Oh!” The side started to walk briskly towards the hallway, gesturing to a door that Deceit couldn’t quite make out in the shadows. “There’s a room for Dorian too. I didn’t know what she needed, so I just made a big tank. Glass tank, I mean, not the weapon. Maybe that was- Yeah. I can conjure more things for her, if you give me a list or something.”

“A _list_?!” The deceitful side failed to stop himself from gawping this time.

“A piece of paper with-“

“I know what a list is, Remus, I just hardly thought **you** did.”

“They’re not usually my thing, but I thought it would be easier for you. If you’d rather tell me-“

“No, no. A list is just dandy, thank you.”

He pushed damp, frizzling hair away from his face and took a steadying breath. Remus tilted his head, watching intently.

“Let’s talk.” The Duke said.

_Well, **that** came from nowhere._

“About what?” Deceit cooled down, collapsing into the sofa; it was like falling into sleep- drifting further than expected, but ending in a warm, safe bubble of dim sensation. He _was _listening to Remus, he just also happened to be lying down, and **very** _uncomfortable_. As he reached for a nearby cushion, eyes half-lidded, he felt the sofa buckle slightly beside him.

“About Virgil.” Deceit’s eyes flicked back open. Sitting up, he hugged the black and yellow cushion against his chest, looking stiffly at the other side now perched next to him.

“What is there to say?” He replied, terse. “Virgil thought Thomas wasn’t paying enough attention to him, assumed we would hurt our Whole if he knew about us, and then left us for those _bozos _upstairs.” He looks up at the ceiling. “It’s his _own_ fault, if he wants to try and forget what he is and play pretend.” He said, hardness edging into his voice.

“So you don’t miss him?”

“Of _course_ not.”

“At all.”

“_Not at all_.” The cushion squishes itself against his ribcage, almost painful.

“But you practically raised him!” Remus turns his body to face Deceit, hands outstretched. “When nobody else was willing to get close enough to meet him, you were the only one-“

“Patton tried, too.” He hissed. “I was just_ curious, I didn’t care_.”

“Why do you always sneak into their Common Room to check on him?” Remus changed tactics, frank and unaccusatory. “Why go through so much effort to see him every day, when all he does is argue and ignore you?”

“I _don’t_.”

“You-“

“I’m just being _selfish_.” Deceit cut him off. “I **_love_** it when he gets upset, when he_ **squirms**_ at my presence, how he smiles at the others and they care about him so much **_more_** than I did.” Deceit’s tongue slipped away from him, carrying a stream of thoughts and _lies_ with it.

Remus listened, eyes widening. The snake, such an awful and terribly fearful creature, felt the hot coals of something retched crawl its way out of his mouth, vile and inked with a truth, small and afraid:

“Why do I miss someone who doesn’t care?” The cushion fell to the ground, and Deceit could breathe with ease. He sniffed, quickly pressing both of his warm, _dry _eyes into the palms of his hands. “That last one was hypothetical, **_of course_**. There’s _no reason_ to miss him.”

Creativity sat still. Leaning forward, he gently grasped Deceit’s shoulder, shuffled forward, and enveloped the smaller side in an embrace. He was incredibly warm, and still damp, smelling like a distant, greasy dumpster fire, catching familiarly in the back of Deceit’s throat.

“You _do_ realise you’re a terrible liar.” Remus whispered.

“Huh?” He tried to look at the other side, but Remus pulled him in tighter, almost desperate.

“Your voice does this thing whenever you lie.” He continued. “Kind of like when I get too excited, or Virgil gets super anxious. It’s normally really subtle.”

Deceit became keenly aware of how the hush of the cottage suddenly weighed down like a thick blanket around them, the pattering of rain outside their only constant. Had he been shouting?

“Dee?” Remus asked. In reply, slowly, Deceit grabbed a handful of The Duke’s clammy clothing and buried his head in the other’s chest.

“My voice- I _don’t _do that.”

“It just happened again.” Remus said calmly. There was a pause.

“You can tell?” His voice was muffled.

“Yeah.” Remus lightly stroked the other’s hair.

“How long?”

“Since we were about twelve or so.”

Silence. Something broke, and the exhaustion hit him in a wave of pain, and sadness, and longing.

“Shit.” Deceit crumpled into Remus, his body shaking down into his very core in painful tremors as the tears tried to fall, overcoming years of repression. Fingers dug into Remus’ back before quickly loosening, never pushing hard enough to even leave the lightest kiss of a bruise.

_Careful. Deceit was always careful, even now._

Remus continued to breathe evenly, looking out at the swirls of light red and gold on the wall.

_With his plans, with his feelings. With everything. _Creativity wondered if he could ever be that mindful with something.

_Nah, _he thought, absently cradling the shivering man’s head in his arms,

_I’m much better with breaking things._

Despite this, for just a little while, The Duke closed his often wild, sharp eyes to hide their softness, holding the smaller side against his chest. The wind outside rose to a slight whistle, and the gentle rain thumped louder against the window planes before calming. Deceit’s breath was hot and heavy against him. Remus would normally joke about it, but there was something pained and dulled in his lungs that quietened his often-cluttered mind.

Slowly, with weighted certainty, Deceit let his arms fall to his sides, pulling away from Remus. A moment later, Creativity lowered his arms, glancing over his companion: Human side red and puffy, snake side cool and poised, as it always seemed to be. Deceit wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“You-“ Remus halted, opening and closing his mouth before covering it with a hand, thoughtful. Trying to figure out what he was supposed to say. Deceit leaned back into the sofa, softly surprising the other by propping short legs across his own.

“I don’t hate him. For leaving, I mean.” Deceit spoke to the ceiling. “He realised that there was something that he needed to do, and found his own family along the way, when he realised he didn’t want to be part of ours. That’s what kids do, I suppose. When they grow up.” Remus looked down at him.

“Do you hate _them_, though? The three musketeers?” Deceit chuckled quietly, then paused to think.

“No.” He confessed. “They haven’t done anything wrong, at least to Virgil, even if they don’t accept **us** right now. Logan, Roman… Patton, they all do what they think is best for Thomas as a whole, and they- They really love him. They make Virgil happy.” There was no malice or bitterness left in his tone, leaving room for a swell of fondness in his voice. “They make him feel safe.”

“You made him feel safe.” Remus said. Deceit sighed.

“I’m not so sure.” Deceit turned onto his side, propping his head up to look at Remus. “I didn’t know any better back then. I thought that if I lied convincingly enough that he wouldn’t worry about things. What you don’t know _can’t _hurt you. Turns out, it just made him para- concerned. Made him terrified of what could be hiding behind my words. Of me.” Biting his lip, Deceit blinked away the oncoming tears. “I’m too tired for this.” He said quietly.

Determination sparked through Remus’ body, lighting passion in his eyes.

“Prepare to be amazed.” Neatly lifting and lowering Deceit’s legs that were barring his ascension, Creativity walked over to the side of the sofa where the snake’s head lay. A tearful Deceit watched in confusion.

“What are you doing?” One grimy hand disappeared behind the edge of sofa. “Wh-No, Remus, REMUS-“

The back of the sofa suddenly flopped downwards with a _thunk._ The royalty grinned, hands on hips.

“It’s a bed now. See? I planned for every need, except for weed and speed, though I’d bleed for tweed, or if you’d rather some mead-“

“Alright, alright. I get it, you like rhyming things.” He was already stretching himself out across the bed, wiggling into a comfortable position.

“Cool. I’ll leave the doorway open and hopefully I’ll have the weather thing figured out before you wake up.”

“What?”

“Goodnight.” Remus started to walk towards the exit, mind already turning to figure out how he was going to get the rain to stop.

_Was it time-based? Were the parameters for rain too low, or was the issue simpler than that? Roman had mentioned something about removing some of the water from the system-_

“You’re leaving?” Remus paused.

“Uh, yeah? What does it look like I’m doing?” The serpent cast his eyes downwards, shifting to wrap his arms around himself.

“I’d rather you stay.” Deceit said.

Remus stared.

“Huh,” He turned, hand stroking his chin, “Dee, your voice didn’t do the thing. I didn’t know you had a secret, superior lying skill that is more deceptive than your usual lying. Is this,” he gestured to Deceit’s general being, “even your final form?” He whispered.

“I’m not lying.” Deceit replied bluntly.

“_Huh_.” Remus said, squinting. “A clever ruse.”

“Okay, look,” Deceit dragged himself out of bed, “I know that I’m not the most approachable or friendly side of Thomas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely.” He dragged scaled fingers through his hair, gritting his teeth. “It’s selfish, I know, but I can’t help it; I was **made** to be selfish.” He slumped, eyes cast downwards. “Besides, I wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway, I’m not ‘that’ kind of tired, and it would be… appreciated, if someone else was present.”

Remus stood by the door.

“Huh?”

Deceit sighed, walking over and grabbing his arm before dragging Remus towards the bed. “Come on, we can watch Disney movies through the Play_thingie, _right?” The Duke saw a tired, but genuine, smile slip past the other’s lips.

“Huh. Uh,” He reached down to turn the console on and grab a controller as Deceit pulled him past, “yeah, we-I could- there’s- in there-“

“What is it?” Deceit glanced back at him as they reached the bed, voice hinting at concern.

“ALADDIN IS ALREADY IN THERE SO IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THAT IT’S FINE BUT THERE ARE OTHER DVDS IN THE CABINET SOMEWHERE.” Remus exhaled the squabble of words in a rush, desperately resisting the urge to panic. He was doing incredibly well.

“A movie about a con-man who lies his way to the top?” Deceit smiled, not seeming to mind the outburst: It was much more in line with how the bug-eyed man usually behaved, the familiarity putting him at ease. “Sounds like my kind of thing. Shall we?” He leaned back into the bed, moving to make room for Remus and patting the space next to him.

For just a moment, Remus took in the scene before him. The soft swirls of the walls, the cluttered shelves, the warm air, the bright light of the television screen. A messy-haired man, tired but relaxed, relieved; waiting for a response. It was quiet outside, the rain finally ceasing its endless descent through the Imagination, their non-existent world, if only for a while.

“You’re gonna have to scooty your booty more than THAT for THIS **thicc snacc**.” Deceit rolled his eyes.

“_Sure._” Regardless, he inched a little further to the other side of the bed, and Remus hopped in, immediately slipping an arm around him and gently pulling him closer, giving Deceit the chance to push away. Again, the snake obliged, slithering near to curl up on his chest. “Well, that was pointless.” Remus shrugged.

“There’s no rhyme or reason to what I do.” He said, fiddling with the controller until a golden disk appeared on the screen in front of them, the title ALADDIN hovering next to it.

“You think so?” Remus looked down to meet two curious eyes, one orb of shimmering gold and one holding the shades of soft, warm earth.

“Sometimes. Though I’m not quite sure I think at all. I just do.”

“A-skoodely-boo.” Deceit chuckled. Remus gasped.

“You KNOW about that?” He said.

“Of course, I was watching the whole time.”

“I’m still very proud of that one.” He grinned.

“I’m sure you are. Hm.” Deceit pondered for a moment. _You really are a mystery. _“Can we start?”

“Oh! Sure.” Remus clicked a few buttons and the screen went dark, the Disney logo and music fading in. Deceit snuggled closer with a sigh, while Remus placed the controller at his side and began to fiddle with the other’s hair. It was soft, and he was careful. The two relaxed further into each other.

From outside the cottage, dim, fantastical music could be heard tracing the air as two sides, lonely apart, lay together in a comforting amber glow. Upwards, there was nothing to see but the vast emptiness of darkness and clusters of flickering, bright, quiet stars. Their light breathed into the night and coloured the darkness something hopeful.

Somewhere else, far away, two snakes curled up next to one another, green and grey against black and gold, in a small glass cage, filled with warmth.

It was a peaceful night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my second Sanders Sides fic, and my second fic that I've ever uploaded! Brought it over from tumblr, now that I have an account here. This is almost certainly the longest writing piece I have done for fun, well, ever. Possibly even the longest thing I've written, period. I had a ton of fun with it, although again I think I might have gone overboard with editing it and lost a bit of its original energy. Oh well, I'll try to remember for next time. Either way, I hope you enjoyed reading!


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